


fire and ash

by justasuperfan



Series: everything i didn’t say [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Everyone Has Issues, Gen, Klaus Hargreeves Has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25430197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasuperfan/pseuds/justasuperfan
Summary: in which five learns about klaus’s secrets, and confesses some of his own. hurt/comfort(I just realized that a lot of this is heavily influenced by run run lost boy— https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020424. I didn’t mean for mine to be so similar, but I’d read it and subconsciously added a lot of the same things.)
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: everything i didn’t say [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841560
Comments: 4
Kudos: 317





	fire and ash

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all your comments, kudos, and support already! i got motivation to post again, but mostly i’ll try to post once a day. this one’s a little shorter, but i’m a sucker for five comfort
> 
> TW: ptsd

Five had been here before. A number of times, actually. But every time got worse.

Ash and smoke swirled in the air, the gray sky looming ominously like hands ready to strangle him. He was choking. The wasteland stretched on for miles and miles, never stopping. Rubble and bodies and ash and fires. There was never anything else. Maybe he’d been imagining every moment he’d had with his family, in his home. Maybe this was the only thing that had ever existed. Maybe he really was going insane from the solitude.

The ground shook. Bodies rose around him. Since when had it gotten so hot? The bodies got closer and closer, covered in dust and scraps. Their hands were outstretched. Faces slack. Clothes ripped to shreds and blowing in the hot wind. Five backed up, his breath coming faster and faster. A hand clenched around his lungs and the breath was stolen from him. He tripped on something behind him and fell backwards, scrapes and bruises snatching his skin. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t breathe.

They were so close now. One of them grabbed his arm. Another one grunted his name. Shit, shit, shit. He was hauled to his feet and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t—

_Are you okay?_

He opened his eyes. The hand clenched tighter around his lungs. He choked out a cough, but regretted it when he couldn’t suck in a breath. He was choking right there. He was going to die, just like he always did. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe then he could finally escape whatever hellhole encompassed the world.

_Five? You’re uh...you don’t look so good._

One of the bodies was too close. He knew who it was, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Who cares? Just another rotting corpse there to taunt him. To tell him he would never have a life outside the burning ash.

_Klaus?!_

Klaus? 

He opened his eyes for real this time. The hand around his lungs lessened until he could finally suck in a breath, coughing insanely and holding a hand to his mouth. Why was it so cold?

“You okay?” 

There was still a hand on his arm and he wrenched it away weakly. It was a corpse, it was—Luther. Wait, Luther? 

“Kinda busy, Luther!” Five heard someone call. He whipped around but didn’t see anyone. What he did see was the couch, the bar, his house. He wasn’t in that wasteland. Goddammit, he’d done it again. The second his breathing eased, he stumbled towards the stairs until he could blink to his room.

“Wait, Five, are you sick?” Luther called after him, his footsteps shaking the house.

“I’m okay.” Five said shakily, regretting the words as soon as they came out. He was so obviously not fine.

“Wait, Five is sick?” Klaus called from upstairs. He heard footsteps on the stairs and saw Klaus appear, half his face done up with eyeshadow and mascara, the other half still waiting. Five’s brother caught sight of him on the stairs and immediately dropped his eyeshadow, running towards him.

“What happened, kiddo?”

“Not a kid.” Five replied. His voice was way shakier than normal. That couldn’t have been good.

“You’re also not okay. C’mon, you need to sit down.”

Five had never been the type of person to ask for help. He’d always relied on his own reliable brain to find a way out of a bad situation. Plus, his intense training with Reginald had taught him to keep to himself. He couldn’t ask for help, because he didn’t need it. He never had, and never would.

But as Klaus sat him on the couch, his cool arms slowly bringing Five back to reality, he couldn’t help but wish he’d grown up differently. Maybe their childhood was a monstrosity, but if he hadn’t time traveled, would things have changed? Would he have gotten closer with his siblings, or lived in his own apartment, or even met someone? Would he have done something other than survive on his own for years only to be ‘rescued’ and turned into a killing machine?

“Hey, what’s going on?” Klaus asked him gently, patting his face to make sure he was still there.

He almost said nothing. But something was going on, and he didn’t have to pretend to be fine anymore. He didn’t have to lie anymore. His family wanted to help him. “I went there.”

Klaus froze for a second, then a sad smile came over his half-beautified face. “The apocalypse?” Five nodded. Klaus sighed. “How long has this been happening?”

Five shrugged. Ever since they’d stopped the end of the world, he’d been going back, to his years alone and to the days the killing had actually gotten to him. The bloody bodies lying on the floor and his shaky hands that had caused so much destruction. “Maybe since we stopped it. I just...it’s not that bad.” He started to stand. Maybe this was a mistake. He still didn’t know how to talk to people. He wanted help, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. But then a question popped into his mind.

“Why did Luther call for you?”

Five sat next to his brother again. Klaus looked at the floor. “I’m assuming it’s because everyone else went to the store. But it also might be because I have some secrets, too.”

Five squinted at his brother. “Are you high?”

Klaus laughed. “Nah bro, been clean for...well, I’m not sure. Like a hundred years?” Five almost laughed. Almost. “But I’m not an open book, brother dearest. I have some PTSD too.”

Five blinked. “I don’t have PTSD.”

“Oh, please, I recognize the symptoms. You’re scared. That’s okay, I am too. You know Dad used to lock me in the mausoleum for days?” Klaus’s gaze went dark. Maybe Five wasn’t the only one who refused to ask for help.

“That’s...sorry.”

“You really aren’t good at emotions, are you?” Five was about to protest, when Klaus laughed. “I’m kidding. None of us are. We’re all pretty fucked up, little brother.”

“I’m older than you.” He pointed out.

“Whatever. Now come on, let’s go get some doughnuts and get your mind off of it.”


End file.
